Moonlight
by ifwednesdaywasaflowerchild
Summary: Jackson's not sure what the rules are regarding the proper conduct in and around ruins of possible historic value, but he's pretty sure pushing your best friend against the side of the building was breaking at least one of them, if not all.


Stealing Captain Russell's boat had seemed like the perfect plan at the time. It all worked in his head, Melissa knew how to sail, and he could learn if he was the only one who volunteered to go with her. Until Abby. He's not sure how willing he is to let them sail off on their own despite knowing how clever Melissa could be and how conniving Abby is.

And, now, listening to Melissa toss and turn in the pitch black heat, he wonders if asking his best friend to make this sacrifice is best for all of them. He knows it's her because she's always restless. He shares a tent with her, he's learned a few things.

 _(She hums heavy metal when she's stressed. That shocked him a bit.)_

Abby and Jory are on either side of Ian, taking shifts of sleeping fitfully, and being awake tending to the boy's dangerous fever. Eric is tucked against a far wall - his logic being that if Captain "Freakin' Nuts" returned during the night, he'd be in the shadows and away from the psycho.

That, of course, makes sense in theory but Eric snores and you'd have to be almost deaf to not hear him. Especially in the eerie silence of the ruins. He has no clue what these ruins are or what they were used for at one point. He thinks Lex would probably know. The boy seems to know everything.

But Melissa - that's where his thoughts stray back to.

Should she sail off in a boat that Captain Russell had been working on? God only knows what he's done to it. Why had he even suggested it? What made him think she'd be willing to in the first place? But, she had. Hell, she had caught onto his plan before he even finished forming the thought.

He likes that.

She gets him.

There's no need for words with her. Melissa seems to understand with just a look; all he'd had to do was tilt his head and she caught on. And, she had seemed perfectly fine with it, if a little scared. That terrified him. Actually physically shook him to the core that she would not only catch onto his plan but willingly go along with it. If it hadn't have been dark out, he probably would have excused himself to go throw up.

Maybe, that's what making him doubt his plan.

Her willingness to trust him.

He's just not used to it. Nobody's ever trusted him. Not like this. Not enough to go along with his crazy, convoluted plans. And, when he hears her huff, frustrated with her inability to sleep, he makes his move. Tip-toeing carefully around the sleeping bunch on the floor, he kneels down next to Mel and - he swears he didn't plan this - combs his finger through her hair. "Hey, Mel."

"Hey." she mumbles quietly and he can just see her head turning into her pillow.

"Come with me, please?" it's a little more begging than he's exactly comfortable with, but he's already asked her to do something huge and now, asking for something as small and walking a few feet away for a private chat seems a little bit much.

"Yeah." Melissa nods, reaching for the zipper of her sleeping bag.

He steps back and waits for her to climb out. She's wearing those loose blue and white striped pajama pants he remembers from that night they danced. Stepped on her foot, really, but he tried. And the large blue shirt she had paired with them and how it had made her seem so tiny. Especially next to Daley and Taylor, who wore tight tank tops that rode up when they stretched.

But, not tonight.

Tonight she's wearing a tank top.

A gray one he's never seen before - he's seen that light pink one that, frankly, was the center of a lot of his typical teenage boy fantasies. He forces the thoughts away of how gorgeously her torso curves into her hips and how he'd like to fit his hands along those curves. Now is not the time think of how well his best friend might fit with him. Though, he imagines it'd be the same satisfaction as finding that missing piece to a puzzle.

"Jackson?" Melissa whispers in confusion. "What's up?"

"Let's go outside," Jackson motions vaguely to Eric sleeping against a shadowed wall. "I can't hear myself think over freight train, over there."

As if on cue, Eric flails, grumbles, and sinks back into sleep, blissfully unaware of how loud he is. Melissa just giggles and follows him to the opening they've been using as a door - it's probably a window, they realize, but they don't actually know what this place is, so who knows what is what, really?

The moon winks at them through shuffling palm fronds and the dried out earth under bare feet reminds them that it isn't camp, where wet sand met dry, and the rain could be unrelenting. They won't find the others sleeping inside of a tent, where the blue glow of Lex's watch serves as a nightlight, and where he curls around her in their sleeping bags. Where Nathan wakes up with a mouthful of red hair because Daley is on his chest, and Taylor is punching Eric in the ribs because she hates his snoring. Where Lex curls his torso around Melissa's knees and presses his head against her stomach because he's so small and she protects him from the monsters in his dreams.

"Is everything alright?" Melissa shifts back against the building, rubbing her upper arms.

"I just - are you sure you're alright?" Jackson finally forces the words out with a gruff cough to cover up how nervous and stuttery he felt. "With my plan, I mean. I just didn't - we need - and you and Abby - and I - Melissa, I'm sorry. You don't have to go."

It's an odd sight, or it would be, if his face wasn't already distorted in the few strands of moonlight slipping through palm fronds. If liquid silver didn't toss weird shadows on the abandoned building behind him, the one with stranded students, just like them, and on Jackson, with his blue eyes pleading with her to change her mind, to not agree with his stupid, stupid plan.

"Look, I'll admit, the idea of being in the middle of the ocean with Abby doesn't thrill me." Melissa hugs her arms closer to her torso; the wind blows cooler at night, especially here in the canopy of banana palms and coconut trees. "But, I want to show you that I can do something. That I'm stronger than you all think I am. I'm not the weakest link."

"Is that what you think?" he doesn't mean it the way it sounds - a harsh growl reverberating around them, like hearing the echo of a baseball connecting with a metal bat. "Mel, it's not - you - you have never been the weakest link."

"It feels that way at times." Melissa shrugs. "I've never been a tomboy. I mean, you saw me at school. I'm pretty sure Taylor wears longer skirts."

"Not by much." Jackson laughs, pressing his palm to her cheek. "You are strong - stronger than any of us. You kept me from running away like I always do, you made me realize that I'm more than my past. You are my strength, Mel. Taylor is a friend but she wants Eric, for some reason that I'm sure only makes sense to her. I want you, Melissa. It will always be you."

He feels the heat of her flush under his hand, catches the faint splash of red in the moonlight, and marvels at how someone can be so adorable and so sexy all at once. All flushed cheeks but sensual curves - puberty had obviously been kind to sweet Melissa. All he remembered of puberty was oddly timed blood rushes, a squeak of a voice, and awkwardness but she's - Melissa's always the exception to the rule.

The heat draws him closer, pulls him in toward her. His hand slips down, curling around her neck, thumb pressed against her pulse point. There's a sharp breath from both of them when the blood rushes, pulse leaping up to meet his touch. "You don't have to go," his mouth is somewhere in her hairline, voice barely a damp breath against her skin, and his other arm is inching around her waist. "You could stay with me. You could help me, here. Let Abby go. You should stay with me."

"Jackson - "

"I was an idiot, Mel." Jackson murmurs, kissing her temple. "I was an idiot. Stupid. I should have never suggested it. I shouldn't have - "

"I could have said no." Melissa reminds him, teeth sinking into her bottom lip when his mouth trails, hot and tender down her the side of her face; a constellation of kisses along her cheekbone, over the bridge of her nose, and down to the corners of her mouth. "But I didn't. I trust you."

"You shouldn't have." Jackson is barely able to force the words out - his oxygen is in short supply at the moment, the swell of her lush lips almost far too enticing to resist. "You should have said no. You shouldn't trust me, Mel. Never me."

"I always trust you."

God, those big, endearing, trusting brown eyes, he swears they'll be the end of him. His mouth presses against hers, a faint trace of a kiss, experimental, but those pretty pouty lips draw him back for more. She opens her mouth slightly in invitation, presenting him with the perfect opportunity to take her bottom lip between his teeth and suck, drawing a soft moan from her. The press against her jugular deepens, the lines of his thumb filling with the throb of her pulse beneath the skin. His other creeps into the small of her back, pressing her closer, forcing her to step into him, pressing her heat into him.

"You're breaking your own rule, you know?" Melissa teases when they have to finally pull away for air. Without realizing it - or, maybe, she did realize it, and just didn't bother to move them - she'd bunched his t-shirt in both hands, pulling the black fabric across her knuckles. "No relationships on the island?"

"My best friend is about to sail off with a girl, who may or may not be mentally stable." Jackson ground out, hoarse and soft and barely audible. "I'd like her to know that I plan on dating her, properly, when we finally get home."

Melissa's flush deepens, having been thoroughly flattered and thoroughly kissed. The only forseeable problem with this is Jackson's attraction to a blushing Melissa and his desire to kiss her everytime he sees the faintest hint of pink in olive cheeks. Something about her when she turns red, the way it slowly blossoms along her neck and chest, and how her eyes go just a bit glassy from the emotion of it - it thrills him to know he can do that to her, and that makes him want to do it often.

Something vaguely obscene is growled before Melissa finds herself being hauled around by her biceps. Jackson's not sure what the rules are regarding the proper conduct in and around ruins of possible historic value, but he's pretty sure pushing your best friend against the side of the building was breaking at least one of them, if not all. His fingers curl around her hipbones, pushing and pulling, while he busies himself with the taste of her, bruising kisses, sloppy and unrelenting, lungs burning with the exertion.

"I think I'm addicted to you." he mumbles, stringing kisses down her neck and along her collarbone. "Are you sure you want to go along with my boneheaded plan?"

"We've got to do something," Melissa tangles her fingers in his hair, giving it a gentle tug, giggling a little when it elicits a soft groan from him, still attached to her neck and chest. "We're all going crazy, you said it yourself."

"You should never listen to me, I'm an idiot." Jackson grumbles, pulling away from her neck with a pop. He presses another kiss to the freshly marked area and lifts his head to look at her, shifting his body so he's nudged against her, bodies melding as though they're made for each other. "Seriously, Mel. I'm an idiot for suggesting it. We can do something else."

"No." Melissa's firm tone brooks any further argument - not that he had much of one, aside from a pleading whine like that of a puppy, for her to stay with him, and the incentive of more kisses to get her to agree. "I want to do this."

"Okay."

No, not really, but he'd really like not to argue when he's found a much more productive use of their mouthes. He kisses her again, softer this time, a little more tender than the rough bruises of before. The weight of what morning will bring settles on him, though, guilt knotting up his stomach, and he slowly sinks to his knees, mouthing that strip of skin where her tank top didn't quite meet her pajama pants, shifting his eyes up to gauge her reaction. She smiles, tilting her hips to allow him better access, and settles her fingers in his hair, stroking it, tugging on it, and playing with it, until he settles, humming his enjoyment against gray cotton.

She smells of salt and sweat and smoke and fruit and he lets his eyes close as he nudges his face into her stomach, breathing her in, hands pushing her shirt up so it bunches beneath her breasts and he can kiss and suck and nuzzle her stomach, murmuring desperate pleas into her skin.

 _("I need you." "I love you." until night gives way to morning; the boat burns, and Jackson wraps his hand around Melissa's as they head back to camp.)_


End file.
